Jedi Knight: The Academy
by skulk3r
Summary: A young streetkid living in a world not unlike our own, learns that he is forcesensitive and is taken to the Jedi Academy on Yavin4. Follow him as he progresses through the ranks and learns his forcepowers whilst striving to become the ultimate Jedi.
1. Chapter 1: What's your name?

**Disclaimer:**

These things seem to be fairly popular, so I'll add one of my own.

I don't own Star Wars or any or the characters, this story is entirely fictional, any coincidence in character names or places are entirely unintentional. I also do not own a working lightsaber. The Star Wars computer games series is also not owned by me, neither are it's characters or story.

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**The Academy**

Prologue:

Jedi Knight: The Academy

It has been almost a decade after Tavion's failed attempt to revive her dead Sith Lord and the galaxy has experienced unusual peace during that time. Whilst there are still small skirmishes and dangerous schemes enough to keep the fledging new Jedi Council busy, there have not been any major confrontations between the Remnant and the New Republic. The new galaxy order has been prospering and all is going well. Too well.

During the reign of the Emperor and his Imperials, the Empire had established many bases across the galaxy – and even beyond. The Empire had grown quickly in the relatively short amount of time it was in power, spreading its influence to even the most remote places in the galaxy, even launching several attempts to cross galaxies. Now, after almost ten years of peace, the calm waters are being stirred and a powerful, yet almost unnoticeable current is flowing beneath the still surface. It is the calm before the storm, and forces are at work – but no one knows who, for the dark side is both cunning and concealing.

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Chapter 1:

Almost invisible in the dim lighting, a lithe teen crept along the cold metal venting in between the first and second levels of the complex. Silently, the black-haired boy crawled along the gap between the ceiling of the first level and the metal floor of the second. Having done this five times already (he kept count), he was a most experienced burglar – before breaking in each time, he would analyse different entrances and exits, always taking a different combination than before, but always careful to leave two exits untouched. He was not, by any means professional, just cautious – watching careless thieves getting caught and tortured was enough incentive for him to be paranoid. Shafts of light illuminating a square section of the vent-grating in front of him signalled the fourth open grate in front of him – this should be his last by his count, also the most difficult one; because just a few metres away stood some hired guards. Carefully approaching the light, the teen became even more tense and even more quiet (if that was even possible), he didn't know how good these guards were, but he didn't want to ever find out the hard way. Finally, after what seemed to be hours of inching towards the grate, he managed to peek out just a little bit. From what he gleaned and what he heard, he surmised that there were about two men walking towards him – he was not alarmed, it was simply part of their guard route. He sat down again in the vent, careful to be out of sight should they decide to look down.

"I dunno! Who knows where they came from?" It was one of the guards, "They came in their big flying spaceships and overtook the country just like that. They had _laser-blasters_ for crying out loud, even our special-forces was hard-pressed. What did we have? Guns that shoot out little bits of metal and made loud bangs! They probably didn't even feel it! I dunno what their white armour is made from, but it's darn tough. Anyways, they cut right through us and that's when I decided to give-up and work for them. No sense in fighting on a losing side."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But they aren't so bad, I mean they let us keep our government and stuff, all they did was take some land, ya know? As long as we keep to our business, they'll keep to theirs." The second guard's deep voice sounded as if he had been smoking since he was about…..oh, seven years old? Well, that was the dark-haired boy's guess anyway – he wouldn't know, he couldn't afford cigarettes.

"Well, at least we get paid well enough," The first guard continued, "It's not so bad, all we're doing is guarding their equipment and food supplies, and everything…Aw MAN! What is that stink! I swear, this is the tenth time I've smelt this and it absolutely reeks!"

The teen winced in the vent – he was going to need to take another wash when he got out of here. He didn't enjoy washing in the cold water streams and avoided it as much as possible, but he couldn't exactly have hot water – living in the streets meant toughing it out.

"Aw, you're right." the second guard pinched his nose shut, "You know, you should stop smelling your own farts and just own up if you're constipated or something, alright?"

"Just shut your mouth, wise-ass. I swear it's not me; it's always around this area. Far out, what do they have in these wooden crates? Fart bombs? They have tons of them here."

The second guard laughed, "What a way to take out a country. Fart bombs and stink 'em out. Let's just get out of here. Hurry up and get your card punched, let's go."

The boy peeked out of the vent when he heard them leave and breathed a sigh of relief when he wasn't discovered. He could be very hard to see when he wanted to disappear, but no matter how good you are at hiding, nothing can stop your stench, and his was a very bad stench. Living amongst the bins will do that to you.

He ran light-footed over the wooden crates that had been stacked up in the vast warehouse and aimed to get to the top-most crates – they were the ones that contained food ration supplies for their soldiers. As he reached the top crate, he pried it open with one blade from his four-bladed throwing-star, lifted the lid off and began shoving as much of the white-capsules as he could in his pockets. He was extremely thankful that these rations were small in size, but managed to fill him up more than enough. He was careful to leave some in the box though, just so it wouldn't look so empty and people would begin to suspect thievery.When he finished, he quickly danced up the boxes and aimed for the level 2/3 ceiling/floor gap to escape.

But before he could get there, a particular box grabbed his attention – but he didn't know why. It was not remarkable in shape, colour or size, in fact it was exactly the same as the other ones. But for some reason, this box nagged at his mind like no other. Driven by curiosity, he pried it open like the one he had pried before and peered inside. It was nothing more than just food rations inside their usually white packets. Before he knew it, he had his hand plunged into the box, his hand found its way around something hard and irregular in shape; he immediately pulled it out. He closed the box-lid again and jumped onto another, higher-up box. He brought his hand up to see what he clutched. In his hand was a semi-transparent green crystal; he shuddered silently. For some reason, when he held the crystal, he could feel a pulsing throughout his body. The teen gazed at the crystal, feeling the pulses through his body. At first, it was irregular, or of different intensities, but as he began to anticipate the next pulse, he felt it regulate out into even, steady beats.

Snippets of conversation far down below brought his attention back to the real world. The guards were back. The dark-haired thief blinked – they weren't supposed to be back for another hour! He quickly glanced at his watch (which he had stolen – naturally) and realised that he had been staring at the green stone for over an hour already. Feeling a little more than careless and wondering how he had managed to waste so much time, he quickly snapped his attention and wit to the present.He quietly slipped the green crystal into his pocket and jumped into the ceiling vent.

Back outside, the teen slowly lowered the roof-venting grate back down. A gust of wind brought with it much needed fresh air – even he was starting to become nauseated at his own stench. The thief scanned the horizon, the sun was almost down and the dark-blue of dusk was beginning to colour the roof of the world.

He quietly and nimbly climbed down the wall, using the jutting out bricks as hand-holds to secure his descent. After what seemed like an eternity of kissing the red bricks, the black-haired thief finally saw the hand-made scratch in the wall and promptly let go. He fell about 3 meters and rolled to avoid spraining his ankle like he did on the first time he dropped – boy, did that hurt.

Stretching himself, he satisfactorily heard his spine crack and fall back into place, the small cramped spacing in the vents had made his bones and muscles ache. In mid-stretch however, he saw something and froze.Whilst just idly glancing around when stretching, he noticed the shadow of a head peeking from above – the body hidden by the roof. Instantly, the thief looked up, he saw a glimmer of a black-haired head before it disappeared beyond his sight.

Adrenaline rushed through his body, he suddenly felt fear – the fear of being caught, the fear that causes the pit inside your stomach, the fear that makes your hands sweat and your face to pale, the fear that drives you to freeze and your brain to lock-up. The black-haired teen ran. He ran hugging the walls, zigzagging through the alleyways, inside the shadows, but he could not shake the feeling of being watched, being stalked, being targeted. He doubled his speed, throwing caution to the wind and began just pounding the asphalt road with his worn-out runners. Still he could not throw that feeling. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind; a pulsing at the back of his head. The thief was slightly surprised at this; normally it would go away after a while. Whilst his gut feeling had never been wrong, he was an extremely fast runner – he could outrun anyone he had ever met, outpacing them and outlasting them.The pulsating feeling in the back of his mind moved, it went around the left side of his mind, all the way around. Then he felt it weaken, distance itself, and altogether disappear.

The teen slowed down to an easy jogging pace and breathed a sigh of relief – he had finally outrun his chaser. Well, that or his pursuer gave up. The thief slowed down to a walk. After a moment, he took his bearings and decided that he was too far south to return to his 'home' – if you could call an abandoned warehouse building a home. He decided that he would need to find another sheltered area and spend the night there – hopefully it wouldn't rain, it gets awful cold when it rains.

After about five minutes of pondering where to sleep for the night, the nagging feeling returned. Suddenly and without warning, it was back in his mind. The thief looked around, his eyes once again betraying his fear, but his body ready to pounce. It was growing; the intensity of the feeling was growing rapidly, this time, from the front of his mind. Almost instantly, the feeling exploded and he could almost feel it pressing on his forehead.

Out of the dark, dark-blue sky dropped a cloaked figure, his robe fluttering behind him as he landed. It was too dark, so the black-haired teen couldn't see his pursuer.

"Haha!", gloated his pursuer in triumph, "Thought you got away didn't you?" The silhouette chuckled, "Boy, you can run fast. A good thing I can run faster. Did you know that I almost considered giving up on…"

The thief didn't want to find out what his pursuer had almost given up on and so he didn't wait for his attacker to finish his sentence. He whipped out his throwing-star and boot-knife and hurled it simultaneously at his pursuer. The two weapons arced and attacked, cutting through the air with amazing speed, speed that you could not follow with your eyes – one from the side, and the other one from the top. This attack had never failed him; whilst the one at the side distracted his opponent, the one from the top usually took him down. But he wasn't finished yet. Just in case he happened to miss his opponent with his throws, the black-haired teen rushed towards the pursuer, intent on using his fist to crush his opponent's neck and using his feet to land a good solid quick in the 'you-know-what' place.

With astounding dexterity and agility, his opponent lowered himself in to the classical martial-arts stance – one leg behind and one in front. Then he dropped, so that the throwing star that usually hit the neck safely passed over his head. The boy grinned as he rushed towards his opponent, quickly closing in on him – he could see the knife from above coming straight down on his head. Suddenly, his opponent rotated whilst still very low from the ground, bringing his back leg to the front in a great sweeping motion. The knife from above missed his robe by inches and clattered useless on the ground. The sweeping foot dragged the boy's feet from under him, landing him on his back. Before he knew what was happening, a strong foot was on top of him, restraining him. All of this took just under three seconds. If you blinked, you would have missed it all.

"Well, that was interesting. I wasn't really expecting that." His dark-cloaked opponent stated.

The boy was surprised too. He didn't really expect his opponent to be able to dodge the knives _and_ take him down at the same time.

"What do you want? I didn't take anything. I swear I didn't!" The thief quickly responded.

"Luckily for me, I happen to know that you are lying. But luckily for you, I'm not interested in what you stole", the pursuer said with a smile. He then lifted his foot off the teen's chest.

The teenage thief quickly stood up.

"What do you want then? Why were you chasing me? Who are you?"

The pursuer chuckled, pulled back the hood of his robe and then angled his head so that the thief could see his face.

The thief was surprised – he thought that it would be a smirking, sinister face looking back at him, but he only saw an open and good-natured smile.

His pursuer spoke again.

"I'll answer your questions in order" he chuckled, "I want to know what's inside that building you just came out of. I want you. I was chasing you because I needed to speak to you."

The black-haired teen looked at him, "You didn't answer all my questions" the teen accused, "What is your name? What do you do, and why do you want me?"

His pursuer sighed. "Young people. Why are they so obnoxious?" he asked to the sky. Then he chuckled, "_I'm_ the one to talk"

The thief didn't interrupt. His pursuer seemed to like talking to himself.

"Okay, I'll tell you who I am, if you tell me who you are. Deal?"

"Okay..." The black-haired boy really had nothing to lose. He wasn't anybody special anyway.

His pursuer took a deep breath and recited, "My name is Rosh Pennin, I work for the Jedi Council on Yavin-4 and I want to speak to you because I believe you are force sensitive." Rosh let go of his breath, grinned at his young captive and asked one question. "What's your name?"


	2. Chapter 2: My Name is:

**Notes:**

Hey, thanks to the guys/girls(or "people" for the politically correct)who reviewed the story! I never thought that anybody would read this section of fanfiction, and I certainly did not expect reviews! In all honesty, I just had this idea in my head of some random plot that I thought would be interesting to explore. I was in the middle of exam period and sometimes this plot just kept popping up at inconvenient times, so I decided to write it down so it won't come back. And surprise! It didn't! BooYah! But now I must continue, because I've got other ideas...and because for some strange reason, people read it!

I don't really know the tools and tips of fanfiction publishing yet, so the formatting may change from chapter to chapter. But rest assured! It _should_ still be readable.

This here (below) was the most popular format of replying to reviewers, so for the sake of leaving my creative side un-tapped, I shall do the same.

Talonah - Thanks for the tip. I haven't played the game in aaages so I don't really remember all of the character names, well, not exactly anyway. Be as picky as you want, critical review is the best. Thanks!

Tellemicus Sundance - Publishing it? Hahaha, I don't know. There would be a limited audience! That and my persistence seems to waver when it comes to completing my stories. Thanks for the encouragement though

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**Disclaimer:**

Um, can you guys look at the Chapter 1 disclaimer? Ican't remember what it was and I don't want to be inconsistent or anything. So yeah, here's the official Chapter 2 disclaimer:

Refer to Chapter 1 disclaimer.

I'm so lazy. 

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Chapter 2: My name is:

_His pursuer took a deep breath and recited, "My name is Rosh Penin, I work for the Jedi Council on Yavin-4 and I want to speak to you because I believe you are force sensitive." Rosh let go of his breath, grinned at his young captive and asked one question. "What's your name?"_

Silence. Rosh kept grinning and staring at him. The teen blinked. And then blinked again.

"What?"

"It's your turn now," Rosh explained patiently, "I told you my story, now it's time for yours."

The black-haired teen peered into Rosh's eyes intently.

"What?" Rosh asked.

"I'm looking for tell-tale signs of insanity. It usually includes dark-rimmed, desperate looking eyes, dishevelled hair and muscle twitching."

"Then why are you looking at me?" Rosh looked rather perplexed and confused.

"Because I think you're insane! Hmm…let's see, I got everything up to 'Rosh Penin' and then I got lost. 'Jedi Council'? 'Force sensitive'? Where did you pull those names from? You are definitely crazy."

"Huh?" Rosh grunted, clearly not understanding. "Look at me, I've got the robe, I've got the saber," Rosh pulled aside his robe and revealed a gun-metal grey tube, "I've got the whole hood thing going. Why is it that nobody ever sees me as a Jedi?"

The teen didn't answer. Rosh was talking to himself again – yet another sign of a person who had definitely lost his marbles.

"Listen, do you know what…HEY! Listen!" Rosh shouted at him.

"Hm?" The black-haired thief snapped his attention back at the insane man. "Oh, you've finished talking to yourself. Listen, I know this place where they take people like you and, well, help you. I can take you there – I've been there a couple of times myself." The young thief quickly realised his linguistic mistake. "To, ah, 'borrow' some food of course. I'm not insane or anything.", the teen quickly added.

Rosh let out an exasperated sigh.

"I. Am. Not. Insane. I am quite 'in my mind', so to speak. Listen. You think I'm insane because I'm talking about things you've never heard of before. Don't assume that you know everything – the universe is a lot bigger than this tiny little planet you people call your home. Even those people you call 'insane' may actually be pondering things bigger than anything you will ever conceive."

That got the young thief's attention.

Rosh continued, uncharacteristically serious. "Tell me, do you know who just took over this planet? Do you know how long they took to occupy your world? Do you know why they did it?"

The thief shook his hair, his black, greasy, ropey hair shaking flinging around his head like a dirty mop.

"I'll tell you. The people that came and defeated all of your planet's combined defence forces have much more advanced technology than you do. You see those cars over there?" Rosh pointed towards a busy highway, "Those combustion engine cars, even the ones that are hybrid using electric motors and hydrogen fuel cells, they are all obsolete where I come from. Your planet is thousands of years behind in development. Even though they had less than ten percent of your combined forces, they were able to easily defeat your government. They have plenty more soldiers where they come from."

"Who…who are they?" The young thief asked, almost too predictably.

"They have searched and occupied almost every planet in this galaxy yet they were in power for less than twenty years. They are known by their white shock-troopers and black-cloaked sith lords. They are merciless and they are uncaring. They lust for power; they are consumed by their instincts. They destroy, defile and commit horrors under the pretence of order and good-will. They will blind you, mislead you and convert you. They are the Empire, the Imperials –they are The Dark Side."

The thief shuddered. For some reason, at the mention of 'The Dark Side', he felt a little twinge at the edge of his mind. Rosh picked up on this immediately.

"See? I knew you were force-sensitive. Do not dwell on the thought of The Dark Side for too long, otherwise it will consume you."

"What do you mean, 'force-sensitive'?" The thief asked.

"Have you ever felt something push at the edge of your mind when somebody else is within a certain area or yourself? Did you feel as if a great pressure was bearing down on your mind when I dropped down?"

The thief nodded. "How do you know that?"

"Because I feel it too. I am also force-sensitive. You can run fast and you can run for a long time because you are force-sensitive. You can drop down from a greater height than most people because you are force-sensitive. I don't know if you have tried it yet, but you can also jump a lot higher, among other things."

"What other things?" The thief's eyes glowed with interest and mischief.

"I, ah, can't tell you any more until you tell me who you are and are also willing to come with me."

"Come with you? Where?" The black-haired teen questioned, instantly suspicious.

"Where I live, Yavin-4, is a planet devoted to training and developing people like you and I – force-sensitive beings."

The young thief wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that there were other people like him, that he didn't need to be alone anymore. But more than that, he felt as if he _needed_ to believe, like he _needed_ to follow Rosh. He pushed it aside as nothing more than the need to be accepted, he didn't want to fall into a trap.

"You know, this is all very nice and all, and thank-you very much for the interesting story, but I am not going with you any where, any time, any how. But my offer to take you to the _special place_ still stands."

Rosh groaned. "How many times do I need to tell you? I am not insane, and this isn't just some 'story', I'm telling you the truth."

"Okay, look. I may have 'felt your presence', but that happens to everybody, you just get this eerie sense and sometimes it works out. Everybody has it; and just because I shivered a bit when you said 'The Dark Side', it doesn't mean I'm 'force-sensitive' or anything – it's a cold night, it's dark and it's not exactly a happy name, 'The Dark Side' – come to think of it, it's a pretty corny name. I am disappointed in you, you couldn't even come up with a more creative, scarier name" The thief paused and looked seriously at Rosh, "I'm going to go now. Don't follow me."

The teen continued to look at Rosh for a moment, he didn't want to leave, and he felt as if he _needed_ to follow him, _needed_ to believe in him. The young thief set his resolve in stone, turned around and began to walk away.

"What will it take?" Rosh sighed as he watched the young teen walk away, his black hair stuck together like ropes because of the oil and dirt from not washing for a long time.

The young thief kept walking, ignoring Rosh. Suddenly, from behind him, a great roaring entered his mind, pushing its way towards him. He instantly whipped around and from instinct brought his left hand up to brace himself – for what, he did not know. In the milliseconds it takes for the mind to comprehend something, the black-haired teen realised something was wrong, something was different. He could feel the pressure bearing down on him, pressing on his horizontally held arm as he somehow tried to push it back. He could almost hear his bones cracking above the great sound in his mind. There was only one problem. He could not see it. All he could see was Rosh several metres away with his hand slightly in front of him, his fingers pointed up at the sky and his palm facing away from his chest; then he saw Rosh grin and flick his fingers down ever so slightly. The young thief's world suddenly became the sky as he, once again, lay flat on his back, his arm hurting like it had just been crushed by a truck.

Rosh walked over to him and helped the young thief to his feet.

"You are force sensitive" he said, as he looked solemnly into the teen's face. "I felt you resisting it, I felt you resisting my Force." Rosh paused, "You okay?"

The dirty thief nodded, "Yeah," he croaked, "I'm okay. It's all a bit hard to believe, but I saw it, or rather I _didn't_ see it – but I felt it too."

Rosh grinned, "You're lucky it was me who found you. I barely _pushed_ and you're wheezing like a dog."

The thief winced, "Barely? It felt like a ton of bricks."

Rosh nodded, "Do you see why you need training? Why a place such as Yavin-4 exists? You need to learn to control the power of The Force. With training, you could have easily blocked my _push_, maybe even countered it with your own _push_, but without training, you would be a loose cannon – we would either need to limit your Force Powers through unsavoury methods or keep an eye on you. That's why we try and bring as many force-sensitive people back to Yavin-4 and educate them, and hopefully have them inducted as Jedi."

"A Jedi?", the thief queried.

"A Jedi is a person who seeks to protect peace and order throughout the galaxy through the use of their Force Powers. They live for that purpose and they always strive to protect more and more people. They are essentially police…no wait, that's wrong, not police. They are more like guardian angels, the guardian angels of peace and order for the people who dwell in the galaxy", Rosh explained, quite proudly, the young thief noted.

"And you are one of these Jedi?" Rosh nodded. "Well whatever they do, they can sure do some serious damage", the teen answered. He took a deep breath, knowing full-well that it would be a life changing decision, either for the better or for the worse.

Rosh interrupted his thoughts, "Look, you aren't 'forced' to come with me, no pun intended. You can continue with the way of life you have now – it would be against our philosophy to force you to join. I will offer you one piece of advice though, follow your instincts. They have served you well so far, keep trusting them."

The young thief nodded, he had felt a compelling will to believe in Rosh for a while, he didn't know why before, but now he suspected it was because he was 'force-sensitive'. He didn't entirely trust Rosh –he didn't know him, but Rosh had only tried to help him, the teen only had himself to blame for those scuffles he had. He felt that he could trust Rosh, he didn't know why, but he felt that he needed to, much like how 'felt' his presence when he was running way from him.

"But I don't have any money. I can't afford to go with you", Rosh tried to put up some sort of excuse, his old-self did not entirely want to trust Rosh.

Rosh chuckled, "Don't worry, everything's on the house. It's free. We are funded by the New Republic, so we have almost limitless resources. We want to try and encourage as many people as possible to join us, so everything is free – from transportation, to food, shelter, training, clothes, everything."

It was tempting, very tempting. A free lifestyle gave him a chance to rid himself of this hopeless situation he found himself in, he could find for himself a new life other than crime. He could meet new friends – friends that didn't view you as just assets, friends that didn't get thrown into prison. The black-haired teen took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve, _'here goes'_, he thought.

"Okay, I'll come with you. Don't ask me if I'm sure or not, because I honestly may not come with you if you ask me again. Just take me there."

Rosh looked seriously at the teenage thief, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

A flicker of annoyance passed on the thief's face, "Yes, let's just go. Let's go to this Yavin-4."

Rosh grinned, "I knew you would come eventually. I could almost feel your conflict with yourself – if I couldn't feel it then I could definitely see it on your face. Don't worry, though, you won't regret it at all. In fact, where I come from, people _want_ to get accepted into The Academy. I know I did."

"The what? What did you call it?"

"The Academy. Oh, I forgot. The planet we're going to is not exactly a 'planet' per se; it's more of a moon. Anyways, the place where you're going to get trained is not called 'Yavin-4', that's the name of the moon. The place is called 'The Jedi Academy', or just 'The Academy' by Jedis." Rosh began talking to himself again, "Okay, let's see, I'll need transport out of this place. It took me three months to get here, so we can't exactly go by The Academy's scout ships, then again, our ships are faster then their transports."

The young thief watched as Rosh muttered to himself, "We can't stow away again, there are no space-ports anywhere on this piece of rock, and I bet the Imperials won't exactly be forthcoming about lending me a ship. I guess I'll just need to call The Academy for a transport. Oh no. Far out!" Rosh looked peeved, "We can't 'call The Academy', they're too far away. Darn this piece of rock for being so outdated. Ah well, it looks like we'll need to do it the hard way." Rosh looked at the young thief, "Come on, let's go. We need to pay a visit to the Imperial outpost."

"You just said yourself, that the Imperials won't lend you a ship. I don't know why, but you just said it. So how are we going to find a spaceship?" The thief was really confused. Didn't this man just say that the Imperials weren't friendly to him?

Rosh didn't look back as he walked ahead, "We'll just have to ask nicely. Don't you know? If you ask politely, you can get almost anything." Rosh put a smug grin on his face – felt quite sage-like and wise saying that.

The young, black-haired thief considered this for a moment, then just gave into his instincts and decided to trust Rosh.

"Wait", the teen said. Rosh stopped. "It's Tarni, Syne Tarni"

"What?" Rosh turned around and looked really confused. If you had just said, "banana donkey blue" to a Rodian smuggler, that's what Rosh would have looked like. "What did you say?" Rosh repeated.

"My name – you asked for my name. Syne Tarni."


End file.
